


Finding Fun

by MezMoriah



Series: Tales of Nabooru [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Legend of Zelda - Freeform, LoZ - Freeform, oot, pre ocarina of time, pre oot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MezMoriah/pseuds/MezMoriah
Summary: A short drabble about a teenage Nabooru taking a forced trip the Hyrule's Market, a challenge to see her situation in a more positive light placing her in unexpected company. Pre-Ocarina of Time. Mention of Nabsgan (NabooruxGanondorf).





	Finding Fun

Handing over the reins of her mare to the inn’s stable hand was easily the most grueling task Nabooru had endured in all sixteen years of her life. More arduous than the training and punishments from Bruvi, the second in command and the best warrior the Gerudo possessed who had taken her under her wing and was well known for her harsh and brutal training regimens. More difficult than fighting off groups of raiders twice her size singlehandedly. She would even prefer when she nearly perished on the steps of the Spirit Temple at age eight in a pride-fueled exploit to prove her elder peers wrong over this. 

She gripped the leather tighter as the boy reached out for them, her jaw clenched as she considered mounting her horse again and riding back to the desert to return to her normal regimen. Aveil and Vasi had already surrendered their mounts and chittered excitedly about the voe Vasi planned to meet up with again a few meters away. If she hopped back up on her horse now, she could escape easily. Camp out the next few days somewhere in Hyrule Field to avoid the inevitable, invasive questions that would follow her returning from basically an order to spend her free days in Hyrule proper (she needed to take it easy or she would burn out, they said). Anything would beat tagging along with these two while they flirted with any voe they could and likely ending up abandoned and sneaking back to their shared room at the inn alone, avoiding any and all those who would try to convince her to stray from that path to their room instead. 

She sighed and continued her mental mantra of “it won’t be so bad” that she had taken up on the ride from home. A little too roughly, she handed her mount over and joined the other two Gerudo. She quelled her present and future annoyance with them by bolstering her pride, comparing the red garb of a warrior she donned (now for two years) to the purple of the lower ranking guards they still wore. A testament to her hard work over worrying about spending her free days cavorting with stupid Hylian boys or slacking off in general. Neither of them would wear those colors much longer, Aveil joining her in red and Vasi trading purple for orange, an artisan and seamstress under Nabooru’s mother. Their own initiation had been pushed back by Ganondorf’s coronation in the coming weeks. Nabooru had been grateful for her historic, early initiation; otherwise she would find herself in the same situation as Vasi and Aveil...not that either of them seemed bothered. She would have been furious, future king of the Gerudo or not. 

The thought of Ganondorf did nothing to curb her annoyance either. When all this talk and her vehement complaints to him of the forced outing to Hyrule on her free days reached him, she thought that he would rally behind her, his own territorial nature taking precedence over all else at the very thought of other men trying to bed her (she hadn’t even slept with him yet, after all, though the promise of it loomed with the completion of his coronation). Usually, she would never even subtly suggest he use his position and influence to help her out of a tight spot, to vouch for her, or aid her in any way. She made a point not to, as she did not wish to take advantage of their friendship turned blooming relationship. This one time that she did, Ganondorf failed to take a hint, his mind occupied with his coronation, and he suggested she “try to enjoy herself” and “come back with fun stories.” But, she could not blame his distraction; she could only imagine being on the brink of ascending to the throne of their people. It was a heavy burden, one she knew he could handle if needed, but even someone as confident as him were not immune to the weight of duty. 

An elbow to her side returned her to the emptying cobbled streets as the sunlight began to die. “Are you going to even try to enjoy yourself, Nabs?” Aveil asked, leading the way to their destination. Nabooru recognized the path and the alley they entered. The pub tucked away here was seedier than the rest, run down, smelled of all sorts of ungodly smells, and attracted the shadier sorts. To Nabooru, these sorts were far more interesting, and it meant she might at least get to witness a fight, if not engage in one herself. Thieves, gamblers, past and future convicts, and anyone else down on their luck flocked to this particular haunt and, as far as most Hylians were concerned, a couple Gerudo would fit right in. Nabooru was just grateful it kept the stares and whispers to a minimum. No one questioned their age there, either. While considered adults by Gerudo standards, Hylians only allowed those eighteen and older to drink. 

“I don’t know. Are the two of you going to abandon me to the Wolfos again?” She narrowed her eyes at the two of them. Aveil only grinned, and Vasi had already thrown the door open to scan the area for the voe she had met last time and exchanged letters with in the meantime. Nabooru saw Vasi’s eyes light up before she flounced through the rest of the patrons. “Well, that’s one down. Want to make bets how long it will take you to disappear, too, Aveil?” 

An eyeroll was all the response she received as Aveil tugged her over to the bar. She pushed her down onto a stool and flopped onto the one next to her. “Just try.” She waved the bartender over and ordered them both a drink. “That doesn’t mean you have to warm some voe’s bed, you know.” 

Nabooru grunted and took a generous swig from the tankard set in front of her. She grimaced at the taste, but she supposed after two additional drinks, she would hardly notice or care. “This just isn’t my thing. I have better things to be doing than drinking and trying to avoid perverts. Like--” 

“Training or reading or meditating or blah, blah, blah,” Aveil finished for her. “And that’s how you find an early death if the sword or starvation doesn’t get you first, Nabooru.” 

She opened her mouth to berate Aveil for belittling the struggle of their people, but instead took the opportunity to drain the rest of her ale and order more. “Can’t die by the sword if you’re so good no one can touch you,” she grumbled, swiping up the new tankard and gulping down another large swig. A weak argument, she knew, and Aveil obviously wasn’t impressed either. It amused her at least. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t capable of having fun. I bet you couldn’t find something fun to do here if your life depended on it.” 

Nabooru narrowed her eyes at her best friend in the face of her smirk. She knew exactly what game Aveil played. She issued a challenge, telling her she couldn’t do or handle something. She tried to resist, glaring into the bottom of her tankard as she drank. The tactic only further peeved her, mostly because it was threatening to work. She bounced her leg as her knuckles paled around the handle of her tankard. Really, in this situation she could not win. If she did not rise to the challenge, she proved Aveil “right.” If she did, Aveil was still right and she would be obligated to go through with the challenge. 

Slamming the empty tankard on the bar, she stood. She would rather be seen as a fool than a coward. Aveil’s smirk widened. “I won’t wait up for you!” she called after her back with a laugh. 

Weaving through the quickly filling tables of laughing drunks, arm wrestlers, and card players, she kicked open the door and wandered out onto the street, ignoring the curses of the man who would likely sustain a bump on his forehead where the wood smashed him. The sky had darkened completely, and torches burned to light the path. She entered the square as the last of the vendors and day walkers closed up shop, and the nightcrawlers took to the streets. The din of merchants hawking their wares and hagglers died down to make way for drunken laughter and the giggles of secret lovers as they sought private refuge. 

Nabooru sought privacy of her own, the solitude of the room back at the inn. She could easily spin the bet in her favor; at that point, lying in bed and staring at the peeling paint sounded as fun as anything else. Aveil never said she had to find her particular idea exciting. Nabooru had nothing against winning on a technicality. 

“--be the best in the guard someday. Watch me.” 

Perhaps the ale had begun to affect her, halting her forward motion to eavesdrop on a pair of twenty-somethings. Trainees in the guard, apparently, if the snippet of conversation was anything to go on. A dusty blonde and dark brunette, both with the hair tied back in a stub of a ponytail, neither looked like they could hold a sword, let alone swing it. The brunette was too scrawny and weedy, and the blonde might have better luck handling the sword, but the extra weight he bore suggested likely not for very long. Even the well-seasoned members of the guard had some brawn to them. Brand new recruits, apparently, but she supposed size meant little in the way of the sword. Nothing she couldn’t test with a quick spar. 

“Excuse me.” She approached the young Hylians, who both straightened up and rested a hand on their rupee pouches at the sight of her. Their paranoia didn’t keep their eyes from roving her body like a couple of starved Wolfos. She gritted her teeth and cleared her throat; bear it this time. “I couldn’t help but overhear. The two of you are in the guard?” 

“Well, training so not—Oof!” 

The dark-haired male glared at his cohort as a knobby elbow stuck itself in his ribs. “We are. You’re looking at future generals, Gerudo.” He smirked at her and pushed off the wall he leaned on, chest puffed out. The line was meant to melt her, have her weak at the knees and groveling for further flirtation. Unfortunately for them, she sought a different sort of fun that most girls did not request. 

“That said,” he paused inches in front of her (a mistake considering it only exaggerated the half a head of height she had on him), “if you’re up to no good, we’ll have to apprehend you and keep you locked up for the night. Right, Tarin?” 

The blonde, Tarin, took several, awkward seconds to catch his friend’s meaning. “Oh! Yeah, heh. But we would take good care of you.” 

Nabooru snorted, resting her hands on her hips. “Sorry, I’m not out making trouble tonight. Too bad, though. Would have looked good to your captain if you could apprehend a Gerudo up to no good.” Their smirks fell, and they exchanged a disappointed glance. She could feel them losing interest, so she had to reel them back in. What worked best with Ganondorf? He was the only male she ever really talked to, and likely a horrible example to hold a couple of horny Hylians to, but she had a challenge to win and a best friend to prove wrong. 

“Tarin’s a nice name,” she blurted, earning raised eyebrows from both males. “Nice and, uh, strong. Perfect for a future general of the prestigious Hylian Guard.” She felt her mouth twitch as she held in her laughter. She knew ten-year-olds who could give some of the best Hylian guards a run for their money. 

Pathetic as her attempt seemed, the scoff of the ringleader suggested she had accomplished some form of competition between them. “General Saro easily has a better, tougher ring to it. Tarin could be a girl’s name.” 

“What? I’m not a girl! Tarin isn’t a girl’s name!” 

“Guys, guys.” Her voice thankfully reeled their attention back to her rather than each other’s throats. “Both of your names are great. So manly. Nabooru is the only girl’s name I can think of off the top of my head, and it sounds nothing like your names.” 

“Heh...that’s a weird name. Na-boo-ru.” Tarin snickered, earning him a glare from the Gerudo and another sharp jab from his buddy. 

“Excuse my friend,” said Saro, bowing reverently though with a playful air to it. “He’s a little...slow in the head.” 

“I noticed.” Tarin grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms, and Saro rebolstered himself in his victory. Nabooru leaned to the side and nodded toward sword at the brunette’s hip. “You expect to be the best swordsman in the guard, right? How good are you?” 

Saro didn’t miss a beat. “The best in all the land, of course.” Even Tarin had to nod in agreement. “My father has taught me how to swordfight since I was five. Even Lady Impa was impressed with me.” 

Nabooru hummed in feigned admiration; she took note of the fact that men responded to stroking their ego. She could likely get them to pay her at this point. But rupees were not her aim. “That is impressive.” Fingers grazed the hilt of one of the blades at her own hip. “Care to test yourself against a Gerudo warrior? Just a friendly spar to test our skills.” 

“Heh...well, that would be a decent test of my abilities...” 

Tarin scrunched his nose, his round face screwing up in displeasure at the thought of his friend sparring with her. She started to suggest they could both spar with her, but the blonde expressed his true grievance before she could: “Come on, Saro. This is the only night we’re going to have to whatever we want for months. We can’t spend it doing the same thing we do every. Day. I thought we were getting drinks!” 

“Hmph.” The shorter male pondered each proposal, his too pointy chin jutting out stubbornly as if to defy both of them. He tapped his thumb on the end of his sword’s hilt. “My friend here has a point, Nabooru.” Tarin’s grimace turned to a pleased grin. “But, perhaps after a few drinks, we can have that friendly spar. It’s not every day I get the chance to practice with a beautiful woman.” 

The Gerudo wanted nothing more than to point out that the reason beautiful women never challenged him to a fight was likely because his society typically frowned upon the idea of women warriors, but her disappointment with their decision to choose alcohol over a good fight overpowered that particular desire. So much for her brand of fun. Perhaps Aveil had a point in some way: she could not find fun here because her interests diverged too far from that of most other people. She thought perhaps she had gotten lucky finding these two. Warriors with ambition (if not overconfidence). But, after this short exchange, they proved more Aveil's type of company than her own. 

“Why don’t you come with us?” Saro suggested. “Be easier than trying to find each other later.” 

The cynical part of her whispered she should refuse, their initial suggestive dialogue unsettling at best. She imagined the peeling, pea green paint in their room at the inn and succumbing to sleep on the lumpy, possibly bug infested mattress. Aveil waking her when and if she stumbled back in drunk, giggling and talking too loudly for the cramped space. She knew she would not see Vasi until they were ready to head back to the fortress unless she decided to abandon them for marriage and life out here. 

She inwardly sighed. “Alright. Sure. I’ll go with you.” 

“Wait.” Tarin squinted at her, gaze critical over the lusty stares they greeted her with. “Are you even old enough to drink?” 

“Someone already thought I was. So, sure.” 

“Hey, she’s got confidence,” Saro snorted and started off, Tarin and Nabooru following. “That counts for enough. By now, everyone is probably too drunk to care. She can pass as old enough, anyway. I know a place where we can get free drinks. The barmaid is crazy about anyone in the guard. That’s what Franz told me.” 

The rest of their conversation devolved into names she didn’t recognize and training stories she didn’t care about. She did glean from them that Tarin came from a noble family, his father shoehorning him a place among the guard’s trainees after he apparently choked at the initial try out. Nerves, he claimed, not a lack of skill. Saro was an only child to farmers and couldn’t stand the lifestyle. Thus, he left his parents to seek out the life in the Hylian army. Though his captains called his form sloppy and his style unrefined, he showed promised, which Saro translated to future general because he put the rest of the green trainees to shame in the practice yard. 

Inside the bar, a much more relaxed atmosphere than the one she left and attached to an inn frequented by Hylian guards on their off days, Nabooru selected a table out of the way and waited for the trainees to return with the drinks. Elbow propped on the table and chin resting in her hand, she fought her restlessness with people watching. She recognized a few of the usual merchants sharing a drink over a game of chess by the fire, laughing instead of at each other’s throats for sales. Two of the inn’s maids taking a break leaned against the walls in the corner, drinking tea and looking unimpressed with whatever the drunk man speaking with them was pitching. 

“She must have had the night off.” 

Saro’s gruff and frustrated statement and the scrape of chair legs on the stone floor drew her attention from the man and woman awkwardly drudging through some mockery of conversation. Tarin slid her a shot of amber liquid and a tankard filled with ale (that she hoped tasted better than the stuff she had earlier). 

“I take it things didn’t go as well as you hoped with that bar maid?” Nabooru smirked as she dug some rupees from her pouch and slid them across the table to Saro. She ignored the scrunch of his nose and the twist of his mouth as he stared at the gems a moment too long. He finally added them to his own rupee pouch. “Or maybe that Franz guy was just messing with you?” 

Tarin shook as he tried to maintain his laughter under Saro’s warning glare. “She told him he was the third and not the best-looking trainee trying to get free stuff tonight, and that if he didn’t plan to pay he needed to leave.” 

Saro swiped up his shot and drained it, wincing and waiting for them to follow suit. Taking the tiny glass between her thumb and middle finger, she tipped it back into her mouth. Whiskey. It burned her tongue and throat, but it beat the ale she sucked down earlier that evening. She set the glass down and leaned back in her chair. She would have to limit the shots if she hoped to keep her wits for their spar. 

Or, so she thought. Saro had already finished his tankard and was waving down a maid for another while Tarin swallowed half of his in one swig. She frowned; at this rate, she suspected both of them would be far too drunk to offer any sort of challenge. Their flailing and falling over might prove amusing, but amusement paled in comparison to a fair and challenging victory. 

She huffed through her nose and lifted her own tankard to her lips and waved the maid’s request for another drink or shot off with her free hand. She did not know which, but either the last, slim glimmer of hope or the knowledge that she may need to keep her wits about her to make an escape convinced her to stay sober. 

“So, what’s the desert like?” Tarin asked once they both had their drink refilled. “Hot?” 

“Hot,” she agreed, setting her cup back on the table. “During the day, anyway. Cold at night. Sandy. It’s hard to navigate if you don’t know what you’re doing, but I think it’s beautiful overall.” 

The maid brought around two more drinks for each of them. “How do you train in the heat?” Saro asked, paying the woman before she strode off, now empty tray beneath her arm. “I can’t even stand the summer heat here.” 

“Well, when you grow up in it, you probably don’t notice it as much, idiot.” Tarin snorted and winced when Saro punished him with a blow to the arm. “Hey! That’s just common sense!” 

In spite of herself, Nabooru couldn’t help but laugh. They amused her at the very least. “He’s right, I guess. I’m just used to it. What I don’t understand is how the lot of you fight in full, clunky, metal armor. Especially in the summer. Isn’t it hard to move in it? It seems restrictive.” 

Saro nodded behind his tankard and finished it off, wiping his mouth with his forearm as he pushed the empty cup away. “Absolutely. It’s like a sweat swamp in those tin cans, and don’t get me started on trying to fight in them.” A shrug. “But I guess you just get used to that, too. Tarin still struggles, but he’s not the most athletic, as you can see.” 

“At least I can wield a broadsword without nearly taking someone’s head off because it’s too heavy,” said Tarin, one of the fresh tankards brought to his lips. He slurped the ale down. “So, are the Gerudo really all women, or is that another lie they tell us trainees to get us in trouble?” 

“Oh, that one’s true. But don’t get any ideas,” she warned, narrowing her eyes at the lascivious glance they shared. “Outsiders aren’t allowed passed the valley. Though one male is born every century. The one now is a few years older than me.” 

“Whoa. Lucky guy. I’d trade him places, anyway.” Both males laughed and knocked their tankards together, earning them an eyeroll from Nabooru. She had to stifle a shudder and soften her sour expression at the thought of either of them taking Ganondorf’s place. They would make a mockery of the position for one, and she certainly would not harbor the same feelings she had for the prince for either of them. To take either of them seriously as a leader would prove difficult enough, but anything beyond a casual friendship would be nigh impossible. Her work ethic would likely drive them away from her in the first place, and she drank to the Goddess of the Sand for that. 

She pondered her next words, a reprimand, for all of a few seconds: “Keep talking like that and you’ll never find yourself lucky enough to have more than words with a Gerudo.” A lie, almost; it just depended on who they managed to talk to. But, it ended their guffawing. And, if they listened, perhaps they would learn to treat the Gerudo and other women a bit more respectfully. “We have far too much pride to allow anyone to speak of us like that.” 

The silence between them spoke volumes, a smug smirk on her lips. Saro finally drank from his tankard and cleared his throat. “I guess we shouldn’t argue with advice from a real live Gerudo.” He slurred his words some, a tell-tale sign that the alcohol he consumed would most certainly derail their plan to spar. She was far too proud to challenge him intoxicated. Where was the challenge in that? 

The rest of the conversation devolved when the man-boys decided to turn their drinking into a competition. They slugged back drinks like water, and would shoot her a random question about herself or the Gerudo when they remembered her presence. At one point, Tarin asked her to flex her arm so they could test her muscles. She humored them, and their wide eyes and praise only boosted her ego, the odd request quickly forgiven. Soon, the maid cut them off despite their begging and sent them stumbling and giggling to the door. 

Nabooru remained in her seat, snickering as she watched Tarin trip over the leg of a chair. A cleared throat raised her attention away from Tarin scrambling back to his feet as Saro pointed and laughed, nearly walking into the doorframe himself. Gold eyes met the olive green of the barmaid, the woman’s chestnut eyebrows pulled together in frustration. She rested her free hand on her hip and clicked her tongue. 

“Are you not going to help your friends home?” 

The Gerudo snorted. “They’re not really my friends, so I hadn’t really planned to, no.” 

“Unless you’re going to buy more drinks,” she pointed to the door, “I suggest you leave me a generous tip since your not friends neglected to and get lost. Paying customers only.” 

Nabooru stubbornly retained her seat and grit her teeth. However, after a few seconds of seething beneath the maid’s glare, she decided that the last entertainment this place had to offer departed with Saro and Tarin. Grumbling, she dug some rupees from her wallet and headed back out into the night. 

Upon reaching the square, she grimaced when she found the trainees had not made it far. Tarin hunched over a planter, back heaving as he vomited. Saro turned around in circles, expression distant and making him appear confused and lost. As soon as they exited the bar (and left her to tip the maid), her business with them should have ended. Everything in her screamed to just return to the inn and get some sleep, as she would likely need to care for Aveil in the morning. But she stayed rooted to the spot, unable to peel her gaze away from the catastrophe in front of her. 

Growling, she stomped over to Saro and seized his forearm, dragging him back over to Tarin. Once the blonde pulled his head from the planter and cleared his lips of any residue with the back of his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Castle’s this way, idiots,” she scolded, leading them toward the walls and spires rising to stars above. She would escort them to the gate and dump them on the guard there. She refused to try and get them any further. “Damn lightweights. If you throw up on me, I’ll throw you in the moat, by the way.” 

“Hey, Tarin.” He snorted as he shuffled along beside her. “Think she’s mad we left her?” 

Nabooru simply rolled her eyes and tuned out the other trainee’s response and the rest of their drivel, knowing she would likely knock them both out if she listened. As she approached the gate, she shifted her grip to their upper arms and yanked them up, trying to help them show a little bit of dignity. 

The guard at the gate lifted the visor of his helmet, gaze shifting between the two young men and then to pause on Nabooru. “Tch, odd for a Gerudo to bring her victims straight to someone who could arrest her,” he sneered. She noticed his grip tighten on his spear. “Get them all liquored up before robbing them blind, did you?” 

The protests from the trainees told her she had squeezed a little too hard in her aggravation. She released them and shoved them toward the guard (hard enough, but not so much that they would trip in their current state). Fiery words burned hotter in her throat than any liquor could as she swallowed them back. As much as she wanted to teach the idiot a lesson—either verbally or physically—she kept her composure. 

Gold eyes narrowed into slits as she scoffed. “You said it yourself: that would be stupid,” she snapped. “These two are your problem now.” 

She turned on her heel and didn’t wait for a response, keeping her ears open in case he decided to make good on that promise to try and arrest her. She reached the Market once more without hearing footsteps, the clink of armor, or demands to stop a thief. Almost disappointed, as she still craved a decent fight, Nabooru strode back to the inn. 

\-------------------------------- 

Finding Aveil stretched out on the bed upon her arrival surprised her and, judging by the Aveil’s arched brow, her best friend was equally stunned. She sat up, tossing the book she’d likely dug out of Nabooru’s things to the side. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you back here at all,” she admitted, crossing her legs. “Thought you might have actually found some fun after all.” 

As she toed off her shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed, Nabooru considered telling Aveil about her misadventures. Finding Tarin and Saro boasting in the streets. Challenging them to a fight. How they dragged her to a bar, got too drunk to function, and she dragged them back to the castle. While she had had some semblance of fun, meaning she could easily win their little wager, the fact that a large part of her wanted to just forget the whole thing suggested that it all likely only amounted to an amusing distraction at best. 

Nabooru untied her wallet from her hip and tossed what remained of her rupees into Aveil’s lap. “Sure didn’t,” she said, sliding the jewel from her hair and undressing. She pulled back the sheets and dove underneath them. “Guess I’m not cut out for the lifestyle out here.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It's been a long time coming, but this might be a small piece of a collection of one shots about Nabooru's life. We'll see though because I'm flaky. But I missed writing about my best girl, and this was so much fun for me!


End file.
